Let's go to the Tate Modern and stand in front of Ophelia and you put your hand on my ass and we just stand there for a long time like that.

Poetry prompts 5-8

This prompt factory is being built by all of us.
It’s way more fun if you join in.
Please leave comments and share your own poems, prompts or thoughts.

Here, please do prompts with me:

• Dance me to the end of love//watch THIS & use that line.

  Dance me to the end of love

• All the poets are precious. I think that when they die, all of their unborn poems are just hanging in the New England fog or out in the hot sands of Nevada or in the West Village floating right above the bodega that sells fresh fruit beside of fly swatters or maybe they are also in West Virginia in the throat of a 14-year-old who doesn’t know a goddamn thing about the human heart. Yet. Write a piece about where you can find unborn poems. If it is easier to start with a receptive line, do that. I find unborn poems between your arms…. I find unborn poems in the lies you tell… All of the unborn poems live in the bottom of my father’s whiskey glass. etc. Just, try!

• random angels everywhere — I think this would be a wonderful little prompt.

• Use this art as a writing prompt. Write an ekphrastic poem about Ophelia by Sir John Everett Millais, Bt

  I LOVE THIS PAINTING. Let’s all read Hamlet again.

Here, eat these with me:

Her Kind

BY ANNE SEXTON

I have gone out, a possessed witch,   

haunting the black air, braver at night;   

dreaming evil, I have done my hitch   

over the plain houses, light by light:   

lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind.   

A woman like that is not a woman, quite.   

I have been her kind.

I have found the warm caves in the woods,   

filled them with skillets, carvings, shelves,   

closets, silks, innumerable goods;

fixed the suppers for the worms and the elves:   

whining, rearranging the disaligned.

A woman like that is misunderstood.

I have been her kind.

I have ridden in your cart, driver,

waved my nude arms at villages going by,   

learning the last bright routes, survivor   

where your flames still bite my thigh

and my ribs crack where your wheels wind.   

A woman like that is not ashamed to die.   

I have been her kind.

Paid subs perk:

Please sign up for a free creativity blues session with me. What is this? It is fun and it is a phone call. Low stress.
It is for you. It is a place to cultivate a spring/summer of creativity. Email me to set this up. Or reply to this post.

warmhandsnewsletter@gmail.com

Gentle reminder: We are all going through so much. Hold each other. <3

ILYSM,

Amy